Over Coffee
by older-love
Summary: Harley begins working her summer job at a coffee shop and finds herself interested in regular customer Spencer Reid. Mostly Harley/Spencer interactions with team appearances, M for later chapters


"You ready?" Donna asked.

Harley grabbed at her wrist to snatch a hair tie, but she merely scratched the smooth skin. Right. Her hair was already tied back. She swatted a strand away from her eyes and wrung her fingers on her burgundy apron.

"Ready." That was a lie. Harley told a lie. Harley lied a lot. She was never _really _ready.

But regardless, she followed Donna out into the shop alight with dim, small fixtures that really didn't do much other than toss vague shadows about. Beyond the thick black counter were tables scattered like loose change, their chairs dutifully huddled around. There was a white counter along the window for bar-style coffee sipping, because of course everyone goes to a coffee shop to feel like they're at a bar. Off to the right was an alcove lined with poofy leather chairs, the beige walls adorned with mirrors that did naught but reflect each other back at one another.

She was not a fan of the place. But it was small and busy, and she loved the bustle. Coffee steam thickened the air and suddenly it was richer than the coffee itself. Outside was still a navy night; it was only 5:30 AM.

Day one of summer fun. She wasn't looking forward to the piercing call of the rooster for weeks on end, but she was certainly looking forward to cash in her pocket.

Donna walked over to the glass front door and flipped the CLOSED sign to OPEN. Harley swallowed hard. People weren't exactly her thing. She felt cool sweat already begin to bead on her palms.

"Don't worry, hon," Donna's smile was so painfully friendly as she stomped back behind the counter. She had a real heavy step. That and her five-foot-nine stature made her quite intimidating. It juxtaposed her shiny blue eyes and arms made for hugging, but not in that movie way where she was like the friendly giant. It was just kind of awkward. She was uncomfortable to look at knowing who she was. Harley felt that she should be beautiful. She was beautiful enough on the inside.

"You'll be fine. All you gotta do is follow me around!" Her hands clapped down on the young girl's slim shoulders. "You're in training, peanut. You're out by noon. I'll walk you through everything. No big!"

Harley tried to smile, but she knew it came out as more of a twitch, a grimace, maybe Donna thought she had to fart or something. It was not a smile.

But Harley did like to smile.

Lights raked across the window and she winced. She prayed it wasn't a customer but what else would it be? Never would she have believed the torture would begin this quickly. She really didn't care for people much.

A man in a dark grey suit bustled in, yanking his wallet out.

"Good morning," Donna said confidently after she tossed the trainee a wink. Donna was always real confident. "How can I help you?"

"I'll have a large coffee, two sugars," he muttered to the money that was blossoming from his leather wallet.

"No problem," she chirped as her fingers flew across the small squares of the cash register. "That'll be $3.75 for today!"

Harley wished she'd brought a notepad. Donna was jabbering on about this lever coffee, this amount of scoops is two sugars, cups over here, don't forget the cardboard cuff that Harley had no idea what was called but it was for heat she guessed considering it said CAUTION: THIS BEVERAGE IS VERY HOT along the bottom. There was no way she would remember this. She wasn't listening very well. She was drowning in how much she couldn't do this.

"Have a great day, sir!" Donna sent the man on his way and turned back to Harley before sighing deeply and giving her a sympathetic look. "I know it looks hard, honey, but you'll get the hang of it. You've got at least a week to figure it all out. You'll be itching to do it yourself soon enough!"

Oh wow, that really sounded like it was never going to happen. But her pep was endearing. So Harley smiled genuinely. It was hard not to smile at Donna.

A couple more customers came in. None were shuffling though, which Harley found particularly strange. They were just pushing 6 o'clock and these people were busting in and out. Most of them looked taut, almost angry, and certainly that was the sweat of the early morning blossoming on their faces, but one man was smiling and she quite wanted to ask him if he knew exactly what time it was, if he owned a watch, if he enjoyed the feeling of a slow and painful death because what he was experiencing was relatively the same. But perhaps she was cynical.

It was 6:39 AM when the beeper went off on the door once more.

In walked an extremely slender man. He was neatly messy. His dark brown hair was wild, barely smoothed to curl behind his ears, and it was long. Large brown eyes darted astutely from beneath his furrowed brow, but the dark patches slung beneath them made him look infinitely weary, along with his pale skin that hedged on sickly. His lips were pursed and his single-shoulder black bag slapped against his slim thigh as he strode quickly into the coffee shop.

Harley stared.

"Morning, Spencer," Donna's smile was broader than Harley had ever seen, so motherly. Immediately her fingers grabbed a cup as she automatically knocked ingredients into the cardboard. "Wasn't expecting you so early! You're throwing me off my game!"

He did this thing with his mouth where he smiled quickly and then pursed his lips again but the grin still tugged at the corners of his pink lips and she couldn't figure it out. "Sorry Donna. I've got some files to finish going over before I get in."

She handed him his coffee—Harley hadn't even watched how it was made—and he traded her some ones and change.

"Don't work too hard, sweetie," she tucked the money away. He scurried over to one of the tables.

He was the only one that had sat down so far.

"Who's that?" Harley breathed so softly that the words almost got tangled into her hair as she cast them free. The man slouched back into the hard chair and unfolded a manila folder across the calf that was propped up onto his opposite thigh, folding himself up. He didn't look comfortable. But then again, he didn't look like the type of person that was ever comfortable.

"That's Spencer Reid," Donna returned in the same whisper as she pulled some more medium-sized cups from beneath the counter. "He's a…oh dear…I believe he's in the police force, if I remember correctly."

She glanced over the large coffee tubs at him. "His folder says FBI."

"Oh that's right!" she lightly slapped the black surface. "But really, FBI, CIA, LMNOP, they've all got handcuffs and macho problems." Clearly she meant her statement in no offense; she was smiling like Mother Nature.

Harley looked over at him again. She didn't like long hair. She didn't like sweater vests. She didn't like mousey personas. She didn't like timid types, for she had enough timidity to sink anyone's ship.

"He's cute," she admitted quietly, more to herself than Donna, but she'd looked up anyway. Her mouth twisted a bit.

"I guess," she shrugged indifferently and took out a row of small-sized cups. "You know, if you're into the geeky, dorky thing."

Harley wasn't into the geeky, dorky thing. She was into the big, brawny thing. But she realized that he had incredible cheekbones and that there was something wicked beneath his long, unkempt locks, and she could see it in his eyes that were so expressive it took her off-guard. She bit her lip, peered down at her apron, and back at him once more. His huge stare was ravaging the papers in front of him and he flicked through them like a brochure.

Customers came and customers went. The sun cracked like a breakfast egg. He continued to sit, didn't look up, and the table became more and more cluttered as he released himself to his work. It was like he was oozing across the surface.

At 7:23 AM, Donna began fixing a cup of coffee with no new customers.

"Peanut, give this to Spencer, would you?" she handed the hot beverage to Harley and she very nearly dropped it. This would require social interaction: not exactly on her top 20 Things To Do Before Daylight list. "He's gonna be leavin' soon."

She held the coffee tightly. It smelled very, very bitter. She guessed he took it black, and as she scuttled over toward his table, it made more and more sense; he looked even more worn down up close.

Spencer Reid looked up at her, and she swallowed the knot that immediately clung to her throat. But that didn't mean she got a word out. Her measly confidence could only manage a bare smile, one that didn't even crease the corners of her mouth but instead looked more of a folding of her lips. With a steady hand, she offered the coffee. He blinked twice to shake off the blur as he resurfaced to the present world from the depths of his files, but eventually grinned in earnest and took it lightly.

"Thanks, uh…" he said so softly. It came out in a gravelly whisper, and she knew he meant to speak it with voice but it had been a little too long since he'd actually used it so the word culminated to nothing more than a rasp.

His penetrating eyes bore into hers, and he flipped through her like a brochure.

"Harley," she coughed. A red blush was incinerating her neck, her toes curled at the disgusting awkwardness that was claiming her soul from the fiery depths of Hell. She couldn't speak for the life of her on a normal basis, and it seemed that her acknowledgment of him being remotely attractive to her doomed what little social skills she was convinced she wielded to a dismal failure.

"Donna, you are remarkable," he said—using his voice this time—as he crammed his papers back together and stuffed them into his bag. Spencer looked at Harley once more, pulled on an awkward smile and a small head nod, and dodged by her toward the door. "I'll probably be seeing you tonight!"

"Ain't no problem, muffin!" she called after him. "You be careful now!"

He was gone.

"I take it he's a regular," Harley said to where he had just been.

"Every morning," the smile in her voice was unmistakable. "He's a sweet kid."

Harley really didn't want to see him every morning.


End file.
